


It's the Simple Things in Life

by 17 pansies (17pansies)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, I don't write kidfic, Kid Fic, Kid Natasha, Lots of Sex, M/M, Nat is adorable though, Phil is the best dad, There are a lot of people to blame for this, Toddler Natasha, Uncle Nick uses his words, hot dad au, kids like Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17pansies/pseuds/17%20pansies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil never expected to be a dad, but nearly-three-year-old Natasha is now the light of his life.  When sent an agency babysitter one evening, Phil didn't expect to find himself faced with someone else he wanted to take care of.</p>
<p>Being a security analyst, Phil should have really learned by now to expect the unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the Simple Things in Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is thanks to/the fault of my beloveds, Sirona and CinnamonAnna. They encouraged this fic which started as a throwaway line in a conversation about AUs. _Someone_ mentioned "hot dad AU" and that was pretty much it for my sanity, until I'd written 15,000 words in three days /o\
> 
> I blame the ridiculously attractive Phil Coulson too.
> 
> _ed_ \- And now with [this gorgeous pic-set](http://liz811.tumblr.com/post/97012744961/based-on-its-the-simple-things-in-life-by-17) from Liz811! Thank you bb!

"Coulson, I need you at this meeting this evening, and there's no way I can get your sorry hide out of it. They have to see you, because some dumb ass made the mistake of letting them see he was actually the brains of this outfit."

Phil ran a hand over his face, hearing Nick's sideways compliment all tangled up in his irritation. Pretty normal for his boss, Phil thought, but then there was a thump from the room next door and Phil was dragged back to the real reason for his exasperation.

"Nick, I don't have anyone who can sit on Nat. Old Mrs Carter next door is at her grandson's all week, Darcy and Peter are both back at college and the number of people I trust with my daughter after those three is a big fat zero." He headed into the next room and couldn't help the grin. Tucking the phone under his ear, he pulled Nat out from under the table and removed the briefcase from her grabby little hands. "No, Natasha, you are not going to sit and figure out the combination for my briefcase locks. Nick, I can't leave her with just anyone."

"Give me twenty minutes," Nick said, and hung up.

"Your uncle Nicholas is a pain in my backside," Phil told Nat, sitting down on the floor with her once he'd put the briefcase safely on the table. She'd watched him spin the combinations one day and the way her eyes had gone wide as the locks popped up had fostered a permanent fascination with them. One day, she'd crack them, Phil knew, so he'd reset them with different codes on each lock. Just to give himself another week or so. She climbed into his lap and grinned.

"Unca Nick is," she said with a sage nod. "Can we go play?"

"No, honey, Papa has to go to work." He kissed the top of her head. "So we're going to go have a bath, okay?"

Nat clapped her little hands and wriggled out of his grasp, heading for the stairs. She got to the stair gate before him and pointed imperiously. 

"Open it."

"You can't do this one, can you, baby?" he asked, lifting the central portion up. The spring was a heavy duty one that even he had to put a little effort into, because Nat had figured out how to open every single baby gate he'd bought so far. This one relied on brute force, not some clever catch and so far she hadn't worked out how to lever it open. 

"Is sticky." Once the gate was open, she was off up the stairs and Phil followed, watching her climb fearlessly upwards. "I'm soon gonna be big and do it though."

"I don't doubt that for a moment." In the bathroom, he lifted her up to sit her on the lid of the toilet whilst he set the water running into the tub. As it filled, he helped her undress, folding her little jeans for the next day and throwing the rest of her clothes into the hamper. The whole time, she kept up a steady stream of chatter, telling him all about what she was going to do when she was bigger, and how she'd have a bath full to the brim with bubbles because grown ups could do what they liked, and how much she liked Mrs Carter because she was old like Unca Nick but liked playing tricks on the postman and made her laugh. 

Phil nodded the whole time, answering the million and one questions interspersed in the chatter, whilst he tested the water temperature and added the requisite number of bath toys.

"Right, madam, time to scrub you down because I'm pretty sure you brought half the garden back in with you earlier."

"Mrs Carter says a day playing and no dirt ain't a proper day."

"Isn't," Phil said absently, sitting Nat carefully on her non-slip mat. He lowered her down to wet her hair, laughing when she wriggled free and dunked herself. Nat sat up and shook her head, and her mop of red-gold curls sprayed water everywhere.

"It's a good job I'm not in my suit," Phil told her.

"Papa really going to work?" Her little sad frown tugged at something inside Phil, which he'd once thought dead and buried. Nat had reached into his heart and brought it back to life, breathing love and joy and laughter into a soul he'd pretty much given up on completely. Even Nick had said she'd taken ten years off his face.

Sometimes it felt like she'd taken ten years off his life, when she pulled stupid stunts like climbing the apple tree in the back yard or walking along the top of the brick wall at the daycare; or, even worse, falling down when she was barely eighteen months and slicing the palm of her hand open on a twisted aluminium can in the grass at the park. The memory of the blood still made him shudder.

"I have to. Uncle Nick needs me to fix some stuff for him." He rubbed a dollop of sweetly apple scented shampoo into her hair.

"What's he broke?"

Phil laughed and carefully rinsed the no-tears bubbles away.

"I have no idea, sweetheart, but I'm going to go find out. He's sending a babysitter to look after you, though, so we need to make sure they're nice before I go."

"What if they not nice?"

"Then I won't go." He leaned forward and kissed her wet little nose, then reached for the conditioner.

Once Nat was clean and dry and bundled up in her favourite Captain America onesie, Phil made her a sippy cup of warm milk and they curled up on the sofa together for a story. Before they'd got half way through the chapter though, there was a knock on the door.

"Wait there," Phil said, setting Nat down into the warm spot where he'd been sitting.

She nodded seriously, and Phil didn't believe for one second that she'd stay where he put her.

A quick glance through the peep hole showed a youngish guy, in a black hoodie and Phil sighed. Not the sitter, he thought, and if he was selling anything, Phil was going to make sure he never came back.

"Yes?" Phil said, pulling the door open.

The figure in the hoodie looked up. Wide blue-grey eyes looked out from under the dark fabric and Phil had to swallow hard to retain his composure as the guy pushed the hood off his head.

Spiky dirty-blonde hair stuck up at all angles and there was a pair of quirked lips, almost smiling, under a slightly large nose.

He should not have been as attractive as he was, Phil thought with an inward grumble.

"The agency sent me," the guy said, handing over an official looking letter. "You need a babysitter for a couple of hours and someone called Fury rang up and put the fear of god into my supervisor." He grinned. "Gotta say thanks for that, man, as they even gave me the taxi fare to get here."

"How about to get home?" Phil asked him. The guy's face fell.

"Uh, no, not home. I always have to sort that out. Does that mean you don't need a sitter after all?"

"Papa has to work," a little voice said from below, and both Phil and the sitter looked down at Nat, who was peering around Phil's legs. "Can you read stories?"

"Of course I can." To Phil's surprise, the guy dropped to his knees right there on the doorstep, and he really didn't need to be thinking about that right at that moment. Then Phil watched as the guy's face lit up with a secret little smile. "I can read stories," he said. "And I can do voices. Even for the animals."

Phil realised he was so screwed.

"What's your name?" Nat asked.

"Clint," replied the sitter, still kneeling on the doorstep. "What's yours?"

"Can I tell him, Papa?" Nat looked up at Phil.

"Sure honey."

"Natasha Romy Coulson," she said. "I'm nearly three."

"Well, you're a really smart nearly three, Natasha. I can tell these things."

Phil looked helplessly between his daughter and the guy kneeling on his doorstep and realised he'd been overruled. 

"Okay, come in. You, madam, were told to stay." He scooped Nat up off the floor and she giggled, that mad manic sound he adored. "Come on in, Clint."

"Thanks, Mr Coulson." Clint wiped his feet on the door mat carefully. "Shall I take my shoes off?"

Phil looked at the battered but clean red Converse and shook his head. 

"Hardwood floors," he said with a wave of his hand. "Through this way."

He gave Clint a tour of the house, starting with the big dining kitchen and what Nat was and wasn't allowed to eat or drink this time of night. He showed Clint the playroom, the living room, the locked door to his office, the downstairs bathroom; and then he took him upstairs and showed him where Nat's room was and the bathroom, and all the supplies should Nat need him.

"She's been dry during the day since she was two," Phil explained. "But we have special pants for sleeping in, just until she's three. Not that she's ever needed them more than a couple of times," he added as an aside. Clint appeared to be taking everything in, asking relevant questions in the right places. It was the first time Phil had ever laid eyes on him, but there was something about Clint which made him want to trust him. Call it instinct, Phil decided, and he'd always been right to trust his instincts where people where concerned.

"So what's the routine now?" Clint asked. "Is it story time then bed?" He directed his question to Nat and she grinned.

"Two stories," she informed him loftily. "Wiv voices."

"Mr Coulson?"

"God, call me Phil, please. I feel old enough as it is." He sighed and sat down on the sofa so he could balance Nat on his knees. "Yes, you may have two stories," he told her. "But only two, and I will expect Clint to tell me the truth when I ask him how many stories he read to you. Once those stories are finished, it's time to sleep. You've had your milk and your bath, you don't need anything else so do not ask Clint for things he's not allowed to give you, okay? You'll get him into trouble."

"Okay, Papa." She sighed. 

Phil ran through everything he said, looking for loopholes. He didn't find any, so nodded. 

"I really don't want to go to work," he told her, leaning forward to kiss her tiny, upturned nose. "But if Uncle Nick sent Clint to look after you, we all know you're going to be good, right?"

"Right," she echoed. Then her strong little arms were reaching out and winding themselves around his neck and Phil just melted. This child was going to test every single cell of his being before she was old enough to strike out into the big wide world, he just knew that, but it was going to be one hell of a ride.

"Sleep tight, sweetheart. Love you," he whispered in her ear. Then he reluctantly put her down and she ran over to the bookshelf.

"Clint, come look!" she said, and Clint followed her happily. Phil watched from the doorway for a moment as they began the Important Task of Choosing a Book and sighed. 

Then his phone pinged.

"Go see Unca Nick," Nat said, without turning. "Or he's gonna use his Nick words."

Clint snorted, but then pulled a pretty good poker face as Nat turned to look at him.

"I'm going to lock the door on my way out. If you need a key, it's on the hook above the lintel," Phil began to explain, but Clint waved a hand at him. 

"I remember. Go on, we're fine here, honest." He gave Phil a smile which did peculiar things to Phil's insides. "Just two stories, right Natasha?"

She nodded and blew Phil a kiss.

Oh god, Phil thought, scooping up his briefcase. What if they both ganged up on him? 

"You made it." Nick wasn't surprised, exactly, but Phil could tell by the tone of his voice that Phil's appearance in the conference room wasn't completely expected.

"An agency babysitter?" Phil asked, dropping his briefcase on the table. "Seriously Nick?"

"I needed your sorry ass here, so I got Maria to pull some strings." Nick shrugged, unrepentant. "Did you read his references?"

Phil fished the official looking letter out of his back pocket, where he'd stuffed it to pick up Nat and scanned it through. 

"Well, they seem impeccable, but without cross referencing them-" Phil began. Nick tugged the paper out of his grasp.

"Trust me. Maria has used that agency for nearly a year and they've not let her down yet." 

"Nat took to him immediately." Phil sighed. That was part of the reason he'd actually left the two of them together. He trusted her instincts as well. "Okay, well, you got me here. What are we doing?"

"Stark," Nick grinned, and Phil groaned.

 

~

 

It was a little before eleven when Phil let himself silently into the house. It was quiet and Phil paused in the hallway, listening. No television or radio, just the quiet hum of the heating keeping the chilly October night at bay. He toed his shoes off and walked noiselessly into the living room.

There, on the sofa, was Clint, with Nat lying on his chest. Both of them were fast asleep. Something tugged at Phil as he looked at them. In the light from the single lamp which was lit in the corner, Clint looked impossibly young. His eyes were closed, ridiculously long eyelashes resting on his cheeks and his lips were quirked in that almost-smile he'd worn on Phil's doorstep.

He was also holding Nat closely, big arms snugly around her little body and Phil knew he really shouldn't be noticing just how solid Clint's biceps were.

Dragging his mind out of the gutter (yes, okay, it had been way too long since he'd gotten laid but Christ, he was a father and he worked full time and when did anyone with kids ever have time to do that kind of thing?) Phil stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Clint's shoulder.

Clint's eyes instantly snapped open and Phil watched as the muscles in his arms and shoulders rippled as they tensed. Just as quickly though, he recognised Phil and relaxed; a slow, sleepy smile lighting up his face.

"Hey," he whispered. "She fell asleep on me."

"Bed?" Phil asked then had to fight down the blush. "I mean, why isn't she in bed?"

"She said she couldn't sleep when you were out and wanted to cuddle for a while." Clint's grin widened. "Because you hadn't told her to to go bed, only to go to sleep."

Phil rolled his eyes and sighed. 

"If there's a loophole, she'll find it," he murmured, and reached for the sleeping child. He didn't miss Clint's slight hesitance at letting her go and filed that away as something else he didn't want to find attractive about his temporary babysitter. He lifted Nat and she hung from his hands like a little rag doll. "Once she's asleep, she's out for the count," Phil said, tucking her close to him. "I'll be back down in a minute."

He carried Nat upstairs and put her in her little bed, making sure all the covers were pulled up around her and that her nightlight was on. She muttered briefly, made grabby hands until she found her battered stuffed bear and immediately subsided back into a deep sleep.

"I'm sorry about that." Clint was stood in the middle of the living room, scratching the back of his neck and looking adorably rumpled and sleepy still. "We did only have two stories, although she kept bargaining for the longest ones she could find."

"I probably should have warned you that she's a precocious brat with an IQ which is going to drive me to drink before I'm fifty," Phil sighed. "Sometimes, she stumbles over the pronunciation of words, but her vocabulary is ridiculous."

"Lawyer or politician in the making?" Clint smiled. "Next time I'll know to bargain a little more keenly. That is, if you ever, I mean, use the agency," he stumbled and tailed off, his face falling. "I, uh.. I should get going."

Phil couldn't think of a plausible enough reason to keep Clint there any longer, so he nodded. Reaching for his wallet, he pulled out a twenty and held it out.

"Here," he said.

"Oh, no, it's okay, the agency pay me and they bill whoever it was that booked me."

"It's for a cab home," Phil said. "You won't get a bus out here this time of night, and you said they only gave you taxi fare one way."

Clint stared at the money, the flicker of disbelief which crossed his face actually hurting Phil in an obscure way.

"Seriously? But I can walk."

"Don't be ridiculous. Cab fare, tip, call it what you like. I came home to a sleeping child, no water dripping through the ceiling, the floor was paint-free and I'm pretty sure the contents of the fridge haven't been subjected to a plague of three foot tall locusts."

"I didn't eat anything, honest" Clint promised him earnestly. Before Phil could process that, Clint grinned. "I take it other babysitters got a run for their money then?"

"Uh, you could say that." Clint still hadn't taken the money. "Here," he repeated. "And for the record, you can help yourself to what you like when you're here. There's always food, just don't let Nat run you ragged because I came home at eight o'clock one night to find her standing on a stool in the kitchen, instructing some poor woman on the best way to make pancakes."

He tried to ignore the grateful surprise on Clint's face. Almost hesitantly, Clint took the twenty. As he did so, his stomach gave a loud growl.

Clint blushed.

"Uh, sorry. Kinda missed dinner to get over here." He ducked his head and backed towards the living room door. "I'll get out of your hair," he said.

"Wait." All of Phil's protective instincts flared up and he was suddenly very, very sure that no one was watching out for Clint. "I'll call you a cab first. You'll have to walk a mile before you find one to flag down."

"No, it's okay, I don't want to be a problem-"

"Come with me," Phil said, and if it came out as more of an order than a request, it didn't matter. Clint's jaw snapped shut and he nodded. 

Phil headed into the kitchen and pointed to the kitchen stool by the breakfast bar. Clint sat.

"Now," Phil said, picking up the phone as he crossed to the fridge. "Where do you live?"

"Oh, uh, on eighth." He ducked his head, as if embarrassed to admit that he lived in one of the poorer parts of town. "At the park end."

"Okay." He called a local cab firm from memory. All the while, he watched Clint out of the corner of his eye. 

Somehow, he'd slipped into work mode and his keen eye was noting every little detail about Clint - his appearance, his behaviour, how he looked like he needed a good meal and for someone to actually give a damn. His clothes were clean but well worn, like his converse, and Phil could see where the cuffs of his hoodie were frayed. The loose threads had been trimmed short though, as had the hems of his jeans. He made a mental note to look into this agency and see how well they treated their employees.

"Right, soonest they can get here is thirty minutes," Phil said, dropping the phone on the side.

"I can wait out front," Clint went to stand but Phil fixed him in place with a look.

"I'm starving as I've not eaten since lunchtime," Phil said, as if Clint hadn't spoken. "Soup and toast do you too?"

"You don't have to feed me, Mr Coulson, honest. I don't want to put you out or anything."

Phil rapidly figured out that authoritarian wasn't the best way to handle Clint. It worked, and Clint did exactly as he was ordered to do, but it had made him retreat behind a submissive formality that Phil didn't particularly like.

"Relax, Clint. I told you, call me Phil." He pulled a tub out of the fridge and tipped the contents into a pan. "I'm feeling guilty enough that I forgot to tell you to help yourself to whatever you wanted, so at least let me give you some supper." He sawed four even slices off a loaf of granary bread and popped them into the toaster.

"Well," Clint was watching the toaster closely. "If you really don't mind, I am kinda hungry."

Something in Phil relaxed a little as Clint gave in, and he then spent a moment mentally kicking himself. It was not his job to take in every waif and stray he came across, he told himself sternly. Peter and Darcy had been bad enough, although he did feel a small amount of almost parental pride in the fact that they'd both made it into college this fall.

"It's no trouble. It's just pumpkin soup, but Nat loves it so I tend to make a lot and freeze it in batches." He stirred the pan and added a scrunch of black pepper from the grinder. "So, how come you're so good with kids?"

Clint shrugged.

"I grew up in an orphanage," he said. "And I had a knack with the little ones, so the Sisters let me help out with the babies and the preschoolers."

"You're really good," Phil said. "Nat doesn't often take to people so fast."

"She's adorable." Something tense went out of Clint's shoulders, and Phil wondered if he'd been expecting a question about his past. "And you were right about the genius level IQ - she's got a better vocabulary than most of the people I work with."

Phil laughed and started buttering the toast that had just popped up. 

"Same here. Her daycare can't keep up with her."

"Who does she take after then, you or her mom?"

That was smoothly done, Phil thought, taking bowls and plates from the cupboard. He slid two pieces of toast onto each plate and picked up a ladle.

"Well, I'm fairly smart," he said, studying the soup for a moment. "And from what I knew of her mom, she was approaching genius level." He filled each bowl and sighed. "I didn't really expect to be a dad. I was just a donor."

"Oh." Clint blinked at him in surprise. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." Phil put all the food on the breakfast bar and took the stool opposite Clint. "There, eat up. Nat's mom and I worked together for a few years, not in the same department but I knew her to talk to. Tall, elegant woman, fiery red head with a temper to match and absolutely gorgeous. She and her partner wanted a baby, but he was infertile and they didn't want to go to some anonymous sperm bank." Phil paused to take a bite of his toast. Clint seemed to remember he actually had food in front of him then, and began to eat. "They approached me about being a donor. Peggy said that she thought it was a waste I'd never have kids and I should consider passing my genes down for posterity." He smiled at the memory, of her bright blue eyes, just like the ones he looked into every day. "Nat got far more of her genes than mine though."

Clint paused, a spoonful of soup half way to his mouth. Phil noticed that it was nearly all gone.

"Why wouldn't you have kids?" he asked. "You're still young."

"I'm nearly forty," Phil said, and decided to be honest. "And I'm gay."

"You... really?" Clint shovelled the last mouthful of soup in. "Huh. I missed that one completely," he admitted and crunched the last corner of toast. 

"I don't advertise it."

"You don't look it. Didn't ping my gaydar once." Clint looked at his bowl sadly. "That was seriously good soup, thank you."

"There's a drop left in the pan, if you want it." 

"Um." Clint looked between the pan and his bowl, and Phil could practically see the war of his manners versus his stomach.

"Help yourself. It'll only get thrown away if you don't eat it. And put some more bread in the toaster if you like."

Phil watched Clint scrape the pan clean and make another slice of toast, and every nurturing instinct that Nat had awoken in him screamed at him to take care of this guy. The more he looked, the more Phil both did and didn't like what he saw. 

Clint had the slightest limp, and on the back of his left arm were faded yellow bruises in the pattern of fingers. He was pretty muscular for someone who did babysitting for a living, Phil decided, although there was a slightly drawn look to his face which made Phil think that he didn't eat anywhere near enough. Protein bars, Phil thought.

"So what's your day job?" he asked as Clint sat back down with his piece of toast. Clint shrugged.

"I do what the agency needs me to do. I drive rich folks around, do a little door work for a couple of clubs downtown, act as personal bodyguard if needed." He sighed. "It's not the most regular work, but it pays okay."

Phil made a mental note to look into Hammer Hires' background. The fact he'd never heard of the agency before Clint had walked through his door set off alarm bells, because he knew the security business in this town, inside and out. Hell, he had a good grasp on the entire country's business too. He had a feeling Hammer was unregulated. He added a footnote to speak with Maria, first thing in the morning.

"You work dressed like that?"

"What? Oh, no." Clint flushed and looked down. "They provide us with suits and ties for day work, but we have to get changed at the offices. When Justin phoned me tonight, he said just come smart casual. This is as smart as I get."

"You're fine for me. I just wondered if you drove the limos like that."

Clint laughed shortly. 

"Oh, I'm not let loose in the limos. I get the Acuras, or clients' own cars."

Phil's phone pinged and he looked down at the screen.

"Your cab is here," he said, a little regretfully. As he looked back up, he watched Clint try to school his features, but he wasn't quick enough to hide the flash of disappointment from Phil. 

"Thank you, for supper and for the ride home," Clint said, standing. He held out his hand and Phil stood to take it. Clint's grasp was firm and Phil had to stop himself from holding on for a moment too long. "I hope I'll see you - and Nat," he added hurriedly. "Again soon."

Phil walked him to the front door, but as he unlocked it, he had an idea.

"Give me your number, Clint," he said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. "That way, if I'm ever stuck again, I can call you direct."

"Sure." Clint rattled off his number. "But, just don't tell my boss. Moonlighting is strictly against the rules and he'd fine my ass in a heartbeat."

"How many hours do you work a week?"

"Anywhere between ten and fifty. Depends if there's work."

Phil nodded, opening the door. The wheels were already turning in his mind.

"Thanks Clint. Goodnight."

"Night Phil."

Phil didn't shut the door until the sound of the cab's engine had faded, and when he did, he spent a moment leaning back against it whilst his mind whirred round.

He went straight to his office and opened his laptop.

"Hammer Hires," he muttered to himself. "Let's see what you're about."

 

~

 

"Do you have any idea what that agency is like?" Phil stormed into Nick's office and threw a sheaf of paper on the broad desk. 

Nick raised an eyebrow.

"No, but I'm guessing you're about to tell me."

"Hammer is an absolute fucking menace." That got both Nick's eyebrows up. Phil rarely swore unless he was seriously pissed, and at that point, he was more than just pissed. "All of his staff are on zero-hour contracts, he doesn't let them work anywhere else whilst they're on his books, he barely pays minimum wage and expects them to be on call twenty four hours a day."

"Sounds like he'd only get the dregs working for him then."

Phil had to swallow down a response to that. Clint was absolute not the dregs, he was certain of that.

"Not the dregs, Nick, but the vulnerable ones. He picks up misfits and those in debt and homeless vets, and makes them sign watertight contracts which bind them to Hammer Hires indefinitely. Most of the people there barely make enough to survive. And if they try to find another job, he gives them more hours than they can cope with in a week so they can't actually physically look for work, before dropping them down to nothing again. Most of his employees owe him money, because he happily lends it, then charges fucking extortionate interest on those payday loans."

"Phil, sit. Let me read." Nick held up a mollifying hand and Phil dropped into the chair opposite him. 

He was fuming. He'd used any number of illicit back doors to look into Hammer and his employees and everything Phil had found had made him angrier and angrier. 

"And you looked into this why?" Nick asked a few minutes later. He'd not dropped the papers back on the desk, which Phil took as a good sign.

"The sitter they sent me last night, Clint Barton. Nat took to him immediately and he was amazing with her. I got home to find them both fast asleep on the sofa. But there was just something not right. They guy was starving, for one. When I told him he could help himself to my fridge, he looked like he didn't believe me. I've never seen anyone demolish a bowl of soup so fast. His clothes - they were clean but worn to the point of threadbare, Nick. Hammer makes them change into clothes he provides to do his bodyguard work and then they have to leave them at the office when they go home."

"So they don't have decent clothes for job interviews?" Nick guessed.

"Probably." Phil felt a little sick at that. "Clint Barton is an orphan that Hammer coaxed in off the streets, trained to be a damn good bodyguard then tied into servitude. I found a copy of his contract." Phil gestured at the papers. "Bottom two sheets there. Heavy penalties for moonlighting. They can't even go work a burger place without written permission."

Nick was skimming the contract.

"And your personal interest in all this is...?" he asked after a moment. The look he gave Phil was just a little too pointed. Phil sighed.

"I don't know, Nick. There was just something off about the whole thing. He's a good kid - man, whatever, he's late twenties. Nat adored him. Hell, she even asked if he was coming back today to read more stories." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I looked through Hammer's staff list. There are some good guys there, vets with valuable skills who, through no fault of their own, have been trapped."

"And you want to rescue them and bring them on board." It was Nick's turn to sigh. "Come on, Phil, you can't save everyone."

"Not everyone," Phil agreed. "But sometimes, you have to try and save the ones you can."

"We don't do personal guard services," Nick mused. He picked up a pen and began jotting notes down on the back of one Phil's bits of paper.

"Corporate security, national security, doesn't seem much of a jump to personal security." 

"Okay, go away and let me think." Nick frowned at the paper. "Go talk to Maria. Get her to ring Pepper Potts, because Stark has the best lawyers on the planet. If anyone can make sense of these contracts, they can."

"Thanks boss."

"I'm doing this for Natasha, dumb ass." 

Maria was more than a little put out when Phil told her just what Hammer Hires was like.

"I've been using them for nearly a year," she grumbled. "One of my old Army buddies works for them."

"Why don't you give him a ring?" Phil pulled his laptop out of its bag and sat at the side of Maria's desk. "What's his name?"

Whilst he looked up Steve Rogers, Maria picked up the phone and Phil was torn between eavesdropping, and reading the reams of information that appeared on his screen. 

"Seems he's getting pretty regular work," Maria mused once she'd put the phone down. "But Hammer has his buddy in a vice. Owes him a lot of money for medical bills, apparently. And Steve won't leave his buddy, even though he's been offered work elsewhere."

"Shall we shut him down?" Phil asked. 

"You want to tell me why, after one evening's babysitting, you have a personal vendetta against a guy you've never met?" Leaning back in her chair, Maria crossed her arms and fixed Phil with a look. 

"I developed a crush on the babysitter and thought it might improve my chances if I play the white knight and rescue him and his fellow hammerites."

For the longest moment, Maria held her perfect poker face.

"You are such a fucking troll, Coulson, I swear to god." Then her eyes were crinkling up and she laughed in delight. "Okay, whatever your reasons, which I'm sure you'll tell me once we've got this all sorted out, I think this guy needs shutting down. He's a risk, especially if he's hiring vets with bad histories and untreated PTSD, if he's not giving them enough hours to live on, denying them health care benefits..." She shrugged. "I guess you could say I have an interest in all this too."

"You're a star," he said, and stood. "I'll go run all this by the wonder twins in the basement, and no doubt Nick will want us all upstairs for a meeting about everything sometime later today."

"You don't hang around, do you Phil?"

"Nat likes her babysitter," Phil said. "And who am I to disappoint my baby girl?"

"A sappy troll." Maria rolled her eyes. "I'll see you later."

The following morning, Phil picked up his cell and stared at it for a long moment. He was doing the right thing, he was positive of that. His reasons may have started out a little personal, but after uncovering the things they had, there was no way he wasn't going to go through with this.

He swiped his thumb over the screen.

"Hey Clint? It's Phil." He wasn't sure why he didn't use his surname, but he figured if Clint couldn't work out who he was, then Phil was wasting his time.

"Hi Phil!" Clint sounded pleased to hear him. "How's my favourite girl doing?"

"She's great thanks. Actually, I was wondering if you were free for a couple of hours this afternoon?"

"Not working at all today. What time do you want me?"

"Come by my office, about four and I'll give you a ride. My office is a lot closer to eighth."

"Okay. Where do you work?"

Phil closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This is where it could all fall apart around his ears.

"Uh, on the corner of Summers and forty-second street."

There was a pause. 

"You work for Shield Corp?" Clint asked, voice going up half an octave. "Seriously? And you're hiring Hammer guys?"

"It's a long story, Clint, seriously. Just be here at four, okay?"

"I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Phil was lurking inconspicuously in the foyer at five to four when Clint walked in. He spotted Phil almost instantly, which confirmed something else Phil had been wondering.

"Glad you could make it," he said, crossing the wide expanse of pale grey marble flooring and intercepting Clint's path to the receptionist. "He's with me, Toby."

"Yes sir," the receptionist said, and pressed the button to unlock the glass door in the wall behind the desk.

Clint's eyes were wide, and Phil watched in interest as Clint feigned star-struck amazement to case all the entrances and exits on their way up to Phil's office.

"The nearest exit is through there," Phil pointed to the ceiling vent above his head, as his office door swung closed. He just wanted Clint to know he knew. "The windows don't open, I'm afraid."

Clint blinked at him. 

"Come into my parlour?" Clint asked.

"Not a trap, I promise you." Phil rested his backside against the front of his desk, deliberately keeping his body language open and unthreatening. 

"You sure Natasha is ok, and this isn't an elaborate ploy to make me disappear for reading her the wrong story or something?"

Phil laughed, and saw the bunched muscles under Clint's hoodie relax a little.

"My baby girl is just fine, and completely smitten, by the way. We nearly had a full on tantrum yesterday morning when she realised you weren't there and she had to go to her regular daycare." Phil indicated the seat to his left with a wave and Clint sat, albeit reluctantly. "I have a proposition for you, Clint," he began, and then had to fight down a blush as Clint's eyes widened. "No, no, not that kind."

But then he was blushing properly and Clint cackled in delight.

"Well, it's kinda quick an' all," Clint drawled. "And I ain't that kinda girl, Mr Coulson."

Phil couldn't help his own laugh at that. What was it with this guy, who he'd met twice and made him abandon all pretence at professionalism? Maria would have a damn field day with him over this.

"We can talk on that later," he said, deciding to play along. "But this is more along the lines of a business proposition."

"Go on."

"How would you like to shut Justin Hammer down?"

The raw hope that lit up Clint's face was almost too much for Phil to bear. 

"Seriously?" he asked, sitting on the edge of his seat. "You could do that?"

"I may have looked into the company the other night," Phil admitted. "The things you were telling me, they didn't add up. Then Maria Hill, our personnel director, made a call yesterday to someone else who works for him, a Steve Rogers, and she learned a few more things we don't like the sound of."

"Steve is awesome," Clint butted in. "He's had like a million other job offers but he won't leave his best friend, Barnes, and Hammer has him by the short and curlies. Steve can't buy them both out."

"We're getting the impression that Hammer doesn't treat his staff very well."

Clint snorted.

"I would say your assessment of the situation is reasonably accurate," he said. "But he's got water tight contracts with all of us. We're screwed, basically, because on the surface they look really fair and give us permanent employment and even holidays. But then they're all zero hours, so we never know when we're working and we can't go get second jobs, just in case, and some of the guys owe him so much money." Clint bit his lip, looking away.

"Do you owe him, Clint?"

"No." Clint sighed. "I thought about it, I mean, I wanted to borrow some money to go back to school, get my diploma, but then realised that even if I did manage to get the money together, he could and would probably do everything he could to disrupt that, by giving me work on school nights and not letting me attend my lessons."

"Why do you want your diploma?"

"To say I did something. That I'm not dumb."

"And?" There was something more, Phil saw. Clint's eyes flickered around the room, from the door to the ceiling vent to Phil's steady gaze.

"I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher," Clint admitted.

Phil had a sudden image of Clint in a class full of thirty small children, all hanging on his every word like Nat had done, and he smiled.

"See, everyone laughs when I tell them." Clint stood up abruptly and moved to the window.

"No, no, Clint, I wasn't laughing at you." Phil jumped up and followed him, catching his arm to tug him round. "I was thinking how perfect that was for you. A whole class full of little Natashas, listening to stories 'wiv voices'." He realised with a start that Clint was the same height as he was, that he was looking into Clint's eyes on a level, and that the arm under his hand was solid muscle. "I would never laugh at anyone for telling me their dreams."

There was a sharp tap at Phil's door and he just about had the presence of mind to drop Clint's arm as the door opened.

"Phil," Nick said, striding in with Maria at his side. "So, this is the babysitter who stood on an ants' nest."

"I didn't do anything," Clint held up his hands. 

"It's all Nat's fault," Phil added, and Maria laughed.

"I ain't apportioning blame to no one," Nick said, dropping into Phil's seat behind the desk. "Because I am going to have a fucking field day with this one."

"Clint, this is Nick Fury and Maria Hill. They have a little issue with Justin Hammer as well, and seeing as you inadvertently handed them the shovel with which they can bury him, you're their new favourite person."

"Uncle Nick?" Clint asked, looking at Nick like he'd been handed a live cobra.

"One mention of Nick words, and your ass will be nailed to the flag pole on the sixty fourth floor, capice?" Nick glared at him and Clint nodded. Phil could see the amusement in Clint's expression though, and so could everyone else in the room. "That baby girl is a god damn menace, Coulson. I hope she makes your twilight years a living hell."

"She's working on it already, sir."

"Loopholes," Clint nodded, and Maria grinned at him, all teeth. "What can I do to help dig that hole even deeper?"

 

~

 

It took them three weeks, and, in the end, it wasn't anything like kicking over an ant's nest and watching everything scurry for cover. Phil likened it to breaking the locks off all the cages in a circus - one with a particularly cruel and unpleasant ringmaster. As soon as Hammer's employees realised they were free (courtesy of Tony Stark's truly amazing lawyers), as one they turned on Hammer and exposed every single contravention and broken law the man had ever committed, from his human trafficking record to the last parking ticket he'd gotten outside the ostentatious restaurant he liked to use.

Phil made a point of being there when the police came to arrest Hammer. He stood between Steve Rogers and Clint, and didn't miss the way they both seemed to relax as the back door of the squad car was slammed shut.

"Afraid he was going to get away?"

"He's a slippery customer," Steve said. Phil liked the guy, had done the moment he'd met him. He still wasn't sure about Steve's friend Barnes, but Phil had a sneaking suspicion that it was nothing a bit of vet's counselling and a handful of therapy sessions couldn't fix. "He still may yet get away with it in court, but at least we'll be able to go our own ways, right?"

"You're free to do what you like," Phil said. "Although I'll warn you, now that Maria has seen your full resume, Rogers, she's likely to want a chat with you as soon as you're feeling up to it."

There were any number of good people Hammer had trapped, and Phil discovered that between them, Pepper Potts of Stark Industries and Maria had mopped the best of them all. He was a little surprised to find out that neither of them had offered Clint a job though.

"But he's got some good experience," Phil protested, flicking through a copy of Clint's resume. "Surely we've got a place for him here?"

"And there I was thinking you were trolling me," Maria sighed. "Seriously, Phil?"

"He's got an excellent skill-set."

"And nothing formal. No military background, he never even finished high school. Those references Hammer invented for him were spun out of whole cloth. Phil, I'm sorry, I can't offer him anything on what I've got here." She spread her hands. "If he's got some certification that I don't know about, then get him to bring it in. But I'm having to double and treble check everything because Hammer was handing out papers like candy at Hallowe'en. Some of the places on these certificates don't even exist."

Phil rubbed the bridge of his nose and nodded. What he wanted to do was go home, take his contacts out and snuggle up on the sofa with his baby girl. He checked his watch. Fuck it, he thought.

"Okay, I'm out of here. I've got about six weeks of time in lieu, so I'm going to go get Nat early and take her to the park before she forgets what her father looks like."

"Take a few days," Maria said. "Seriously, Phil, you've worked yourself ragged over this. Take tomorrow and Friday, have an extra long weekend and come back next Wednesday ready to beat some semblance of order into these new guys, okay? And don't worry about your babysitter. He looks like he can take care of himself."

That's the trouble, Phil thought, heading for the garage. He wasn't sure Clint could. Out of curiosity, he turned left as he pulled out onto the road, instead of right, and headed to eighth street.

It was rougher than he'd remembered. His shiny black company Chevrolet stood out like a sore thumb and he was seriously considering turning around when he spied a familiar face outside a run down apartment building.

Clint was stood on the sidewalk, surrounded by a small pile of boxes, a suitcase and a couple of bags and he was arguing with a bald guy who wore a stained wifebeater stretched over his beer belly. Cliché much, Phil thought, pulling up next to the kerb.

"I told you, I'll have the money for you on Saturday," Clint was saying as Phil opened the door. "Jesus, can't you give me a couple of days?"

"You're two weeks late, Barton." The guy had his hands on his hips. "I already rented your place. You're lucky it was to a broad, and she packed your stuff up for you. Most others would have kept it all, or thrown it in a dumpster."

"You can't do this." 

What hurt Phil the most was the bewildered hurt in Clint's voice. He wasn't furious or vicious - he sounded defeated. Phil didn't like it one bit.

"Clint," he said quietly, and Clint spun around like he'd been scalded.

"Christ, Phil, what are you doing here?" He looked around and seemed to shrink in on himself. "You don't want to be seen this side of town."

"I haven't seen you in a few days, thought I'd check up on how you were doing." Phil watched the landlord stomp off and made a snap decision. "Come on, get all your stuff in my car."

"What?"

But Phil had already picked up the suitcase and, pressing the button on the keyfob to pop the trunk, he dropped the case in. 

"Move it," he said. "Before someone else runs off with it all."

Clint didn't seem to have it in himself to argue, and they loaded everything into the spacious trunk with room to spare.

"Is that everything?" Phil asked, and Clint nodded, not meeting his eyes. "Right, in you get. Time to go get Nat."

Clint's head came up as Phil opened the door for him.

"You still want..." He shook his head slightly. "But..."

"Get in, dumb ass."

Clint sank into the passenger seat and stared out of the side glass for a while.

"It must be real bad if you're using Nick words on me," he said suddenly, and Phil laughed. "I don't know why you still want me around you and your daughter though," he added. The laugh died in Phil's throat, leaving behind a large lump. "I mean, I just got kicked out of my apartment, I'm broke, homeless, jobless - although I'm not complaining too much about that because Hammer deserves every fucking thing he's got coming." Clint seemed to shrink further into his seat. "I'm not really worth all that much right now."

"Have you eaten today?" Phil asked him. He may not have had experience in dealing with petulant preteens yet, but he recognised self-pity when he saw it; and the best way to deal with that was to ignore it. "Don't know about you but I'm starving."

"What?"

"Nat will have eaten, so she'll just need a snack once we've picked her up, but I could do with something a bit more substantial." A few blocks from home, Phil swung into the little burger joint he liked to use on occasion. Nat loved their chocolate milkshakes, and they'd go and share one on Phil's odd days off. He pulled up to the drive through window and ordered his usual. "What do you want Clint?"

"Just a burger, thanks." He was fishing in his pocket. 

"If you even try and give me money, so help me I will hurt you," Phil said. "Make that two full meals, please, and extra fries. Thanks."

"But you can't just kidnap me off the sidewalk and buy me lunch!"

"It's dinner." Phil drove to the next window. "Besides, you're no use to Nat if you're so hungry you can't stand up straight, are you?"

"That's fucking bribery," Clint muttered.

"Yup." Phil dumped the bags of food into Clint's lap and drove them home. 

At the breakfast bar, Phil dug into his burger, trying to ignore the way Clint's eyes went wide when he saw how much food was in the paper sack. Burger, fries, coleslaw, onion rings and a deep-fried apple donut twist disappeared before Phil had even finished half of his meal. He surreptitiously pushed the extra fries in Clint's direction and they vanished too.

He had no idea where this urge to look after Clint had come from. All he knew was that he wanted to wipe that sad, hollow look off Clint's face. If he could kiss it off, then so much the better but he stomped down on that particular thought and stood. It really had been far too long.

"Right, shall we go get Nat?" Phil scooped the paper wrappers into the sack and scrunched it up into a small ball. He watched Clint take a long drink of his soda and had to pull his eyes away from the way Clint's lips were wrapped around the top of his straw. That mouth, Phil thought. Jesus. "She's going to be thrilled to see us early."

"Sure," said Clint, sliding off the stool and adding his own garbage to the trash can. "Except, I just need you to answer one question first."

Phil nodded. Clint' face was serious. 

"Okay." Clint wiped his palms on his trousers, and Phil wondered why he was nervous. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Phil, please. All of this." Clint's gesture included them, the kitchen, everything. "You picked me up off the sidewalk, brought me home, fed me. I haven't asked for or done anything to deserve any of it. So why?"

"You just got kicked out of your apartment, Clint, because I shut down the company you were working for. It's my fault you don't have a job and until I can help fix that, I feel responsible for you."

"Oh." Going by Clint's slumped shoulders, Phil's answer wasn't the one Clint had been expecting. "That's it?"

The look of defeat in those beautiful eyes was too much for Phil. He'd been kidding himself, thinking he could bring Clint back here, keep it professional and not let his feelings cloud his judgement. Because Phil did have feelings. A stupid amount of them.

"No, Clint, that's not it." Taking what was probably the biggest risk he'd ever taken in his life - and Phil had taken a few - he stepped forward and cupped Clint's stubbled jaw in his hand. "There's a whole lot more, but I'd like the chance to sit and talk that over with you when we have a little more time." 

Clint's face lit up. There was no other way of describing it, how his eyes widened and crinkled at the corners, that gorgeous quirky smile tugging at the corners of his lush mouth. 

"Seriously?" Clint's hands were suddenly on Phil's hips and Phil felt himself sway towards Clint almost instinctively.

Instead of answering immediately, he tipped his head to one side and brushed a soft kiss over Clint's lips.

"Seriously," he whispered against Clint's mouth.

What he hadn't been expecting was Clint's enthusiastic reaction. Before Phil could pull back, Clint surged forward, hands fisting into the fabric of Phil's shirt at his waist and Phil definitely did not make that ridiculous whimper. Clint's lips were warm, his tongue cooler from the soda he'd been drinking and he kissed him with an intent which made Phil's blood all rush south.

"Oh my god," Clint breathed as they broke apart. "Do that again."

Phil couldn't think of any reason not to, not that cognitive function was high on his list of priorities at that moment. He slid the hand that was still cupping Clint's face round the back of his head, the short silky strands slipping between his fingers until he got a firm handful. Clint seemed to melt in his arms.

"I want to take care of you," Phil murmured. "Let me." Before Clint could respond, Phil kissed him again. This time, he took control of the kiss, his tongue twining around Clint's as he swallowed the breathless little noises Clint was making. Somehow, Phil had backed him up against the strip of wall next to the backdoor and he pressed up against Clint, a stab of hot-sharp arousal jolting through him as he felt the bulge in the front of Clint's jeans against his own erection. 

"Please, Phil." Clint's mouth slid away and he trailed a line of biting, sucking kisses along Phil's jaw. "Anything you want."

"Christ," Phil muttered. Clint's mouth was dangerous, and as soon as Phil thought that, his brain supplied him with the visual of those lips wrapped around his dick and, god damn if that nearly wasn't game over there and then. "Wait, Clint, wait a moment."

"What?" Clint sounded wrecked and he pulled back as much as he could to meet Phil's eyes. "Don't you dare stop now."

"No, no, not stopping." Phil kissed him again, unable to help himself when Clint's mouth was right there, plump and red and fuck, Phil had to stop this so he could actually follow a thought from one end to the other. "Just, slowing down."

"Too fast for you?" That quirked smile was warm and fond.

"I'd rather just take my time," Phil replied. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over Clint's bottom lip. "Take you apart piece by piece instead of all at once."

"Jesus fuck," Clint breathed, eyes dilating even further. "Why are we still in the kitchen then?"

Phil chuckled.

"Because we have other things to do this afternoon. And then this evening, if you're up to it, I'd like to continue this conversation, but in my bedroom."

"Other thi- oh! Nat, of course." Clint closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. When he opened them, Phil was impressed by the calm facade Clint had managed to summon up. "She's way more important than me." 

"You can stop that right there." Phil leaned on Clint and felt the full body shudder which went through him. "You are way more important than you appear to realise." 

"I'm just a-" But he didn't get much further as Phil kissed him again. It was a satisfying way to shut Clint up, Phil decided. Clint's calm facade melted completely away and in seconds they were both swept up in the kiss again, all semblance of rationality abandoned. 

"Christ, you make me lose my mind," Phil groaned, moving his mouth to Clint's neck and biting. Clint whimpered. His hips were twitching against Phil's, so Phil slipped a leg between Clint's to give him something to rub against. That also put Clint's thigh hard up against Phil's trapped erection. Win-win, he thought, rocking into Clint. "I want to fuck you," he said into the soft patch of skin behind Clint's ear, before biting him again. "I've wanted to do that since you walked into my house with your skinny jeans and baggy hoodie and come-to-bed eyes." Phil sucked, and the noise Clint made was more moan than whimper. "I want to take you apart, down to the bare bones and put you back together. I want to swallow you whole and hear you gasp my name because it's the only thing in your head. Fuck, Clint," Phil nudged his thigh higher. "I want everything."

"So close," Clint gasped. "Fuck, Phil, please. Please."

God damn it, Phil thought, but then he was moving before he'd thought it all the way through. Dropping to his knees in one sinuous move, he fumbled with Clint's jeans, yanking the buttons free and tugging them down along with his black shorts. Clint cried out as his cock bobbed free and slapped up almost vertical. It was red and angry and leaking and Phil felt a surge of possessive pride that he'd pushed Clint so close to the edge so very easily.

"Christ you're gorgeous," he said, wrapping a hand around the base, and then he leaned forward and sucked the top three inches into his mouth. 

Clint's knees nearly gave out, and Phil braced his other hand hard against Clint's hip to hold him in place against the wall. He could feel the tremors running through Clint's body and decided that this wasn't the time for slow and gentle. He dove down and sucked hard as he drew back. He was rewarded with a moan and a barely restrained twitch of Clint's hips.

Phil worked him quickly, listening to the way Clint's breath was now coming in short gasps, a mixed litany of 'fuck' and 'Phil' and 'please' which only inflamed the desire in Phil. Moving his hand down from Clint's cock, he slid it behind his balls and further back, brushing a dry finger over Clint's hole and that was it. Clint came with a shout, shuddering and gripping onto the door jamb for dear life. Phil nursed him through it, waiting until he heard Clint hiss from the over sensitivity before letting him fall from his mouth with a gentle 'pop'.

Smugly, Phil looked up.

"Oh my god," Clint breathed, voice about an octave lower. "Holy fuck, Phil." The trembling in his knees became too much, and Clint very slowly slid down the wall so he was sat facing Phil, one leg either side of Phil's knees. "You... you actually - fuck. Oh my god."

"Couldn't have you coming in your pants now, could I?" Phil asked, leaning forward to kiss him. Clint kissed him eagerly back, sloppy and uncoordinated but thorough, as if he was trying to lick every trace of himself out of Phil's mouth. "Feel a little better?"

Clint blinked, then reached out and palmed the bulge in the front of Phil's tailored slacks. Phil choked on his next words.

"I think I need to help you feel better," Clint said, sliding the zip down. His hand felt divine as it wrapped around Phil's heavy erection and he shivered, eyes falling shut. "Kneel up."

Puzzled for a second, Phil did as Clint said, then realised that Clint had slid down enough to now be at eye level with Phil's groin. 

"Much better," Clint said, and swallowed Phil down to the root.

"Jesus," Phil gasped, overwhelmed by the sudden sensation. His hips thrust forward before he could stop them, but that didn't seem to bother Clint. The little shit even hummed his approval, grasping a double handful of Phil's ass and encouraging him to fuck into the hot, wet suction. Phil could do nothing else but comply. Bracing himself against the wall with one hand, he kept the other on Clint's shoulder and thrust as carefully as he could. Clint encouraged him with little moans and grunts, letting his jaw fall lax and his throat open so Phil could take what he needed. And with that particular thought in his head, Phil came hard, the last few pumps of his hips almost choking Clint as he didn't draw back enough for Clint to get his breath.

Clint didn't seem to mind in the slightest. As Phil subsided on shaky legs, Clint coughed and swallowed, then grinned at Phil.

"Better?" he asked, and fuck if that sex-roughened voice wasn't enough to make Phil's still half-hard dick twitch again. 

Phil rubbed his thumb over Clint's mouth again, liking the feel of his puffy lips and then he grinned.

"I'd still like to continue this conversation in my bedroom later," he said, and Clint laughed.

"God, yes please."

Phil stood and held out his hand. It felt right, he thought, pulling Clint to his feet, and for a long moment, he didn't let go. Clint just beamed at him and leaned forward for a long, sweet kiss.

"Maybe you should brush your teeth if you're going to be kissing Nat shortly?" he suggested with a smirk.

"Oh god." Phil covered his eyes with his other hand. "You are the absolute worst, Barton."

That just made Clint grin all the more.

They were still early for Nat and the look of delight on her face when he and Clint walked into the daycare was priceless.

"Papa!" she shrieked, pelting towards him as fast as her little legs could carry her. Phil crouched down and braced himself as she flung herself into his arms. "You're early!"

"Yes, baby, I am." He stood and she clung to him, limpet-like. "I missed you lots, so I told Uncle Nick I was going to take a couple of days off and we can go to the park and the zoo and paint stuff instead."

"For my birthday?" she asked, eyes wide.

Damn Maria, Phil thought, with a smile. Even as Natasha asked, Phil realised Maria had given him a long weekend for his baby girl's third birthday.

"We'll pick something extra special for your birthday, okay? You can choose."

Nat wrapped her little arms around his neck and squeezed tight. Then she spotted Clint.

"Clint! Papa, is Clint coming to the park with us? Is he? Please?"

"I'm sure he'd love to." Phil put her down and watched as she ran to Clint for a hug. Clint swept her up in the air as she giggled madly.

"So this is your daycare, hmm?" Clint asked, looking around. "I like it."

"It's fun, and Bruce is nice but I wish Papa didn't have to work," Nat told him seriously. Phil winced. "My favourite bit is over there and it's the paint table, which is messy and fun but Bruce doesn't like us painting anything but paper and Leo painted his chair the other day and Bruce wasn't happy because he sat on it and it turned his pants green."

Clint snorted.

"So what do you want to do now?" he asked. She pretended to think but Phil knew what was coming. 

"Milkshake and park!" she announced.

"I think we can manage that. What do you say, Papa?" The look Clint slanted him made something hot curl in Phil's gut and he had to pull his eyes away before he had an inappropriate reaction in his daughter's daycare.

"I say that's a great idea," Phil said. "Let me go tell Bruce what we're doing."

He headed over to where Bruce was sat in the story corner, surrounded by small children. The daycare leader was a mellow, amiable guy whom all the children adored and whilst Phil would prefer not to have to leave Nat with anyone, Bruce and his team were brilliant. He waited whilst Bruce finished the page he was reading.

"We'll pause there a minute, guys," Bruce said to the kids, setting the book down, then he looked up. "Long weekend?" he guessed.

"Six days off," Phil told him. He couldn't help his smile. "She'll be back on Wednesday, if that's okay with you."

"No problem," Bruce said. "It'll be quiet, but I'm sure we'll cope." He looked behind Phil. "Who's your friend?"

Phil followed Bruce's line of sight and blinked. Clint was sat in the corner with about six small children around him. He had Nat on one leg and a tiny boy on the other, and Phil could Nat was telling Clint something in her serious voice. There was a child leaning on each of Clint's shoulders and he was nodding and asking questions, giving them all of his attention.

"That's, uh, that's Clint. He does some babysitting for me from time to time."

"They like him." Bruce stood up, as most of his audience had lost interest and become sidetracked. "That little guy sat on his lap, he doesn't go near anyone he doesn't know. Abusive father."

"Clint grew up in an orphanage," Phil heard himself explain. "Spent all his time with the younger kids. He wants to be a teacher."

"That's a shame," Bruce said. Phil cut him a look. "Oh, no offence. I could just use someone like him right now."

"Really?" 

"The baby is due in about six weeks, and Betty is at the point where she really doesn't want to be sitting on the floor for most of the day. I've been looking for maternity cover for her, but finding qualified people who want to work with kids this age for more than just a summer job is a nightmare."

"He's got no official qualifications, although he's worked for Hammer Hires for the past six years. Bodyguard, driving, babysitting. Impeccable references, and I'd happily give him a personal reference." 

"You reckon he'd be interested?"

Phil looked at Clint, at the happy open expression on Clint's face as he discussed something very important with the girl hanging over his right shoulder, and nodded. Something warm and fond bloomed in his chest.

"Yeah. Yeah, I reckon he'd be more than interested."

Phil extracted Clint and Nat from the pile of children and managed to get them both into the car.

"I can always leave you both there to play, if you like," he said. "But I'm going for milkshakes."

"Chocolate!" screeched Nat. Clint was carrying her and he winced.

"My poor ear," he sighed, looking pathetic. "I'm going to need extra milkshake now."

"Shall I kiss it better?" she asked, contrite.

"As long as you use your indoor voice in the car, I think we'll be fine." He bussed her cheek with his nose and she giggled. 

Phil was suddenly struck by how easy this all was, how comfortable and natural and normal it was having Clint with them. They'd been two for so long, he'd not even begun to think how bringing another person into their lives would work. With Clint, it seemed, it wasn't going to be work. Even if maybe he was getting ahead of himself. 

They picked up milkshakes from the same burger place they'd stopped at earlier and Clint held them for the short trip to the park. 

"But I want mine now," Nat said, an adorable little pout on her face. The fact she was using her indoor voice was a pleasant surprise.

"Milkshakes taste better outdoors," Clint told her. "I've not had a sip of mine yet either."

"Will you wait til I've got mine?"

"I will. If you sing me a song."

Not only did Nat then launch into her current favourite Disney song, but Clint decided to join in. Phil's throat went dry as Clint's utterly captivating tenor kept perfect time with Nat's enthusiastic, if slightly less-in-tune version. He pulled into the car park and killed the engine, then just sat there, listening to them. 

He was well and truly in over his head. They finished the song and Nat squealed, clapping and kicking her little legs in her car seat.

"You know all the words!" she crowed. "Again!"

"Let's go drink our milkshakes first," Clint suggested. "Because I'm thirsty after all that singing."

They played in the park for nearly an hour, Phil spending more time holding their milkshakes than pushing Nat on the swings. He was able to simply observe Clint and everything he saw just made him want Clint all the more.

His suspicious, flighty, precocious daughter absolutely adored Clint. He'd only seen her take to one other person like that, and to that day, neither Phil nor Tony Stark had any idea why Nat liked him so much. In the end, Phil went and sat on one of the swings whilst Clint and Nat spun themselves dizzy on the roundabout. It was lovely to just be able to watch, instead of being the one chasing her around in circles. Eventually, Nat tired, as Phil knew she would and he was smitten all over again when she tottered over to him, holding her arms up for him to scoop her up into his lap.

"Had fun, baby?" he asked, kissing her nose and sitting on the nearest bench.

"Can Clint come to the park with us every day?" she asked, cuddling into him. Phil smiled up at Clint, who sat next to them.

"I think Clint can come to the park with us any time he likes," Phil said. The wide, happy smile Clint gave him was beautiful. "How about we head home for bath time now? I think someone needs a nap."

"I have had a very busy day," she informed him. "I had to show everyone how to open the new baby gate to the playground this morning."

"Uh-huh." Phil cut Clint a sideways glance and was rewarded with a laugh. "I think Bruce needs to get one of the sticky gates that we have, don't you?"

"No, because that's not fair because I can't open it." Her scowl didn't last long and she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'd like my bath now."

Nat barely stayed awake long enough for a very short story after her bath, and Phil was pretty sure that it was only because Clint was reading it that she didn't flake out the moment she'd finished her milk. He gently lifted his dozing daughter from Clint's lap and carried her upstairs, tucking her in with her bear into her little bed. 

"You are the luckiest man alive," Clint said as Phil came back into the living room. He was sat on the couch looking into the unlit fireplace. 

"I think you might be right." He stood in front of Clint then dropped to his knees, resting his elbows on Clint's thighs. "I have you in my house."

Clint started.

"No, no I meant Natasha."

"I know you did. And I'm ridiculously grateful for her. But right now, I'm thinking about you. Because I'm also very grateful to have you here. We need to continue the conversation from earlier - if you're still up for it, of course."

"God yes, of course I am." Clint looked at Phil as if he were mad. "How could I not be?" Hesitantly, as if he couldn't quite believe Phil was there, Clint reached out and brushed the back of his knuckles over Phil's cheek. "There's so much we should be talking about right now."

"But?"

"But I really want to kiss you."

"I can go with that." Phil tipped his head up and Clint met him halfway in a sweet, searching kiss which held all of the promise of earlier and just a hint of the fire. Phil's hands found their way into Clint's hair by their own volition. 

"Do you still want to fuck me?" Clint asked, breaking the kiss. His thumbs were rubbing circles on Phil's upper arms and it all felt too new, too raw, too intense for Phil to do anything more than nod. "Down here or in your bed?"

"God, in my bed," Phil said. "I've wanted you in my bed for weeks."

"Guess that answers my next question, of whether I'm in the spare room or on the couch." There was a wry little twist to Clint's smile that didn't quite match the mood, and Phil drew back a fraction.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Clint's shrug was diffident, even if his thumbs never stopped moving. "You brought me home - here, I mean - because you felt sorry for me, and I wondered if I was going to be on the couch if we'd not, you know, come to another arrangement."

Phil felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head.

"If you're thinking I picked you up just to have sex with you Clint, you're very, very wrong." He sat back on his heels, looking up at Clint. Breaking the contact was an almost painful wrench. "Don't get me wrong, there's nothing I want more right now than to get you in my bed, but if that's not what you want, you are more than welcome to go sleep in the spare room. For as long as you need to stay here, you've got a roof over your head. With no strings attached."

Clint stared at him, something close to awe on his face. 

"Seriously?"

"Fuck, Clint." Phil surged up onto his feet and paced to the fireplace. He faced the wall, eyes closed for a count of five before turning back round. "No strings. No expectations, no demands, no catches, loopholes, clauses or hidden agendas. You really think that was my game play here?"

"No, no." Clint jumped up too. "No, Phil, honestly, that's not what I thought."

"But it did cross your mind."

Clint opened his mouth, then paused.

"It did. Briefly," he stressed. "But as I'm an pessimistic, ungrateful asshole who looks every gift horse in the mouth expecting it to be a Trojan one, I always think the worst is about to happen. I'm sorry." He looked down at his feet. 

"Because you've always got the raw deal?"

Clint nodded, biting his bottom lip.

"Nothing good ever lasts, you see," he admitted, and the sad acceptance in his voice was almost worse than the defeated expression on his face. "And you and Nat are way too good for me. I kinda thought, you know, I'd get a day or two here, babysit for you to help pay my way when I wasn't job hunting, and then go. But you've just taken some holiday, which I'm guessing is something you don't do all that often, and now I feel like I'm in the way. But if it was just sex..." He tailed off. "I'm sorry. I just fucked all this up, didn't I?"

"Clint." Phil let out a controlled breath that definitely wasn't a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a second. "Let me be completely honest with you now. Yes, I want to sleep with you. I still want everything I said this afternoon. Christ, Clint, have you looked in a mirror lately? You're gorgeous. But I'm never going to take anything without explicit consent from you, and I sure as hell not going to take it if it's given as a perceived payment. Especially when it would be for something that I would happily give for free. You can stay here for a long as you need to get back on your feet. That is an open ended offer, with no expectations of repayment. In any form."

Something suspiciously like tears formed in the corners of Clint's eyes, and Phil suddenly couldn't bear the distance between them any more. He closed the gap in a couple of strides and pulled Clint into a tight hug. There was a stunned pause, then Clint was clinging to him, fighting back a sob and Phil's heart just broke.

"Christ, I hope Hammer rots in hell for the rest of his life," Phil muttered, holding Clint close. "He's lucky he's safe behind bars because right now, I could cheerfully rip his balls off and feed them to him. No catches, Clint. Ever. You're free to stay or to go as you please. But," he added, pressing a kiss to Clint's temple. "I'd really like it if you stayed for a while. Just so we're clear on that."

"How are you so perfect?" Clint asked in a choked voice.

"Not perfect, Clint. Very human, very imperfect." Phil began raining little kisses across Clint's cheek. "Tell me now if you don't want this, because if I hold you for much longer, I'm not going to want to let you go."

"Don't ever let go," Clint whispered. "Please."

That was about all Phil's self-control could take. He fisted his hand in Clint's hair and pulled him into a kiss that probably gave away every single thing he was thinking and feeling, but he didn't care. 

"I want you so much I can't think straight," he murmured against Clint's mouth. "I want every part of you, inside and out, and don't ever want you to leave."

"I'm here for as long as you want me," Clint told him, sliding his hands up under Phil's shirt.

"Forever," Phil muttered, kissing him again. They kissed until they had to break for air, until Phil's lips were buzzing and numb and he felt like he was in danger of coming completely untouched. Judging by the way Clint was trembling he was in pretty much the same condition. "Upstairs."

Clint nodded and half stumbled away, but his hands never left Phil's skin, one hand wrapped around Phil's wrist, the other on the side of his neck.

Somehow, they made it up to Phil's bedroom which was thankfully at the opposite end of the corridor to Nat's room. Phil shut the door carefully, dropping the catch on the lock.

"What if she needs you?" Clint asked, concern warring with the need on his face.

"Baby monitor." Phil pointed to the gadget in the corner. "Now, please, can I get you out of those clothes?"

"God yes." Clint's hands went to his belt and he stripped down in record time. Phil was a touch slower, but only because he threw his clothes over the chair in the corner instead of just dropping them where he stood. "Do you want me to fold these?" Clint asked with a smirk.

"Get on that bed." Phil pointed and, laughing, Clint threw himself on top of the covers, sprawling across the comforter. "My god, do you live in the gym?" Phil asked, unable to tear his eyes away.

Clint's physique was stunning. If anything, his body fat was maybe a little too low, because Phil could see every dip and ridge of muscle, each vein that roped around his arms and thighs, and the text book perfect abs that were definitely an eight pack. 

Phil was no slouch when it came to fitness - years in the Rangers had honed his body until it was lean and toned, but he carried nowhere near as much muscle as Clint. 

"Not a lot else to do when you're broke and waiting for work," Clint shrugged. "Spent a lot of time in the gym at the office - it was free, because it's how he kept an eye on us. Just, please, let's not talk about Hammer, okay?"

"I'm happy with that." Phil climbed onto the bed and then straddled Clint's prone form. Clint shuddered. "What do you want?"

"I thought you wanted to fuck me."

"Only if that's what you want to. Top or bottom?"

"I'm flexible." Clint smirked at him. "How about you?"

"A little variety is always a good thing." He smoothed his hands up Clint's impressive chest, pausing to rub across Clint's nipples with the sides of his thumbs. Clint shivered. "So what's it going to be?"

Clint's smirk softened into something fonder, more smouldering.

"I want you in me," he admitted. "I want your chest against my back as you press me into the mattress. In me and around me."

Phil shuddered and leaned forward to kiss him, quick and hungry.

"I can do that," he said, voice rough even to his own ears. "Roll over."

He jumped off the bed as Clint flipped onto his belly and fetched a handful of things from the bathroom. Clint's back was as beautiful as the rest of him, Phil thought, pausing to look. It was broad and sculpted and the strength in his shoulders made Phil's mouth dry. He had a sudden flash of Clint pinning him down and just wanted.

He tucked a soft towel under Clint's hips before nudging his legs apart to kneel between them.

"Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?" Phil asked, trailing a hand down Clint's spine. Clint shivered. "Seriously, I want to photograph you like this, all dips and whorls, smooth skin and hard ridges. You're beautiful." His finger glided over each vertebrae until he got to the crease of Clint's ass, but he didn't stop there. He followed Clint's spine until he got to his tailbone, and then Clint groaned as Phil brushed lightly over his hole. "Is this what you want?"

"God, yes." 

"Only if you're sure." Phil flipped open the cap on the lube and Clint shivered again.

"Get on with it before we reach retirement age," grumbled Clint, and Phil laughed. Then he wasn't laughing, because the idea of growing old with Clint, of getting to retirement age together derailed any smart comment he'd been about to make. 

Instead, he slipped one slick finger into Clint and twisted. 

"Christ, yes, there," Clint groaned. "Fuck, magic fingers."

"That okay?" Phil asked, smoothing his other hand up Clint's back. 

Clint groaned and buried his face in the pillow.

"Like you have to ask." 

The way Clint was pushing back was clue enough that Phil was hitting the right spot. He carefully withdrew his hand, added more lube and pushed back in with two. Clint's groan was delicious and Phil twisted his hand again just to hear more.

"Enough," Clint said suddenly. "Just, get in me, now."

"But-"

"I like the stretch, please Phil, please now." Clint's voice was breathy and there was no way Phil could resist that kind of pleading. He fumbled the condom packet, had to wipe his hands on the towel and try again before he managed to rip it open. He could almost feel Clint's grin.

He rolled the condom on then lay down over Clint's back. 

"Christ, you feel good," Phil said, flexing his hips until the head of his cock slipped between the cheeks of Clint's ass and nudged up against his hole. "Are you sure?"

"Fuck, yes!" Clint pushed back as much as he could as Phil rocked forward and whatever else he'd been going to say dissolved into a low groan as Phil breached him. 

He was tight, so tight that for a moment Phil worried that he was going to hurt him but there was no mistaking that sound for one of pain. Clint's shoulders flexed as he arched his back, pushing against the intrusion and Phil felt himself slip another couple of inches in. 

"Hold it," he gasped a few seconds later, as his hips pressed up against Clint's ass. "Christ, you're tight, just, just wait."

Phil had to grit his teeth and think unsexy thoughts about work colleagues and Nick naked under his leather coat and Tony Stark dancing on the board table in a jockstrap to stop himself from coming there and then.

"You feel too good," he groaned, pressing his forehead to the back of Clint's neck. "Just, relax, god."

Every muscle in Clint's body was trembling and Phil could feel the ripple around his cock. 

"Been a while," Clint admitted, voice muffled by the pillow. He drew a deep shuddering breath and suddenly the tension around Phil eased a little. "God, will you just move, damn it?"

"Pushy bottom." It was said in a fond, breathless tone, then he drew back an inch and snapped his hips forward in a hard thrust. 

"Fuck, yes," Clint gasped. "Again, come on."

Phil complied, and set a steady rhythm of heavy thrusts, his chest pressed against Clint's back as he rolled his hips forward. Clint practically melted into the bed, moaning and begging Phil to go faster, deeper, harder. 

It was too good to last though. Phil felt himself getting closer and closer, his balls drawing up as Clint's words devolved into base consonants.

"Touch yourself," Phil murmured in his ear. "Get a hand under you and fuck your fist because I want you to come around my cock." He got his knees under himself a bit more, changing the angle and Clint all but yelped as Phil pegged his prostate. "Feel good?" Phil asked. "Come on, come on, Clint, I want you to come for me. Now."

Phil wasn't sure who was more surprised when Clint choked on his next breath in and came before he'd even gotten his hand around himself. He convulsed beneath Phil, every muscle locking up and that was it for Phil as well - he bit down on Clint's shoulder to stifle his shout as he came too, bucking into the fierce grip of Clint's ass as Clint rutted into the bed. 

He collapsed on top of Clint, heart racing and just lay there. Clint's skin was hot against Phil's chest. They were both breathing hard and Phil had to hide a laugh in the nape of Clint's neck.

Clint felt it though.

"What are you grinning at?" he asked, still breathless.

"I'm out of practise," Phil said. "And feeling distinctly unfit."

"Oh god, I'm all for more practise," Clint replied. "All the practise. Every day. Twice a day." He wriggled slightly and Phil felt himself start to slip out. Ugh, condom, he thought, and reaching down to hold onto it, he pulled carefully out. Once he'd disposed of it in the bathroom, Phil came back to find Clint still spreadeagled, face down, on the bed.

"Roll over," he said, slapping Clint on the rump. Clint grunted.

"Kinky."

Phil laughed as Clint flipped over onto his back. 

"Hold still," he said, and wiped Clint's belly with the damp flannel he'd picked up in the bathroom. Once Clint was clean, Phil rolled up the flannel in the towel off the bed, threw the lot into the hamper and then sat by Clint's hip, one hand smoothing up and down the nearest leg. "Two choices," he said. "We can go raid the kitchen and watch some stupid television for a while, or we can get an early night."

"It's not even nine." Clint frowned at the big old station clock in the corner of Phil's bedroom, then suddenly grinned. "I don't suppose you have any popcorn do you?"

 

~

 

"You never did finish telling me what happened to Nat's mom," Clint said. They were in the kitchen, putting a picnic together for Nat's birthday outing.

Phil looked up from the sandwich he was making and sighed.

"First assignment after she got back from maternity leave, she and her husband were flying out to some Central American location, classified of course, and the small plane they were in was hijacked. The hijackers shot the pilot, took control and tried to fly it off somewhere else. They didn't bank on having two of Shield Corp’s finest anti-kidnap team on board. Tim took out the two guys with guns in the cabin whilst Peggy made it into the cockpit. She was shot, but managed to dispatch the guy flying and took the controls. Once Tim had dealt with the two in the cabin, he went to help Peggy. No one knows exactly what happened after that, as they only managed to radio in briefly before they went out of range. The plane made a controlled crash landing, all the passengers were saved, but Tim was killed during landing and Peggy died a couple of hours later in hospital." Phil had never told this tale before. The only people cleared to hear it already knew about it. It was a breach of protocol to even mention Nat's parents' names to someone, but Clint was different.

Clint was also stood next to him, taking his hands and running a thumb under Phil's eye to catch the moisture there. 

"They sound amazing."

"They lost their lives saving eighteen people. I hope that counts for something."

"And left you with a baby?"

"She was seven months old and the cutest thing you had ever seen." Phil smiled. "Peggy brought her over several times, insisting that I be Nat's uncle. Hell, she had an Uncle Nick, so why not an Uncle Phil? She wanted me to be part of her life, because in reality, Nat had two fathers. A biological one, and a parental one. That was fine by me. What I didn't know," he added wryly. "Was that I was named as her legal guardian if anything were to happen to both Peggy and Tim."

"Steep learning curve?" Clint said, more than a touch of sympathy in his expression.

"Vertical." 

God, the hours and days he'd spent trying to figure her out. At first, he'd approached it like one of his more difficult analytical problems. Check every angle, investigate each variable. Look for patterns and vague correlations of cause and effect. 

She had defied all his training, all his logic and experience. About the only thing he'd figured out was that the regular administration of food was a desired input. After that, he was lost.

"Nick gave me twelve weeks paternity leave." Phil shook his head at the memory. "And I read practically every baby book under the sun. Gina Ford to Dr Sears, you name it, I read it. We went to baby yoga and swim classes and infant massage and sing'n'sign. And I'll never figure out what happened, but one day, she stopped shrieking at me in defiance and held her arms out to be picked up. I've been smitten ever since."

"Did you get anything from those books?"

"Only the sure and certain knowledge that babies don't actually read baby books, so they have no idea what they're supposed to be doing. Dr Sears was the most help, but then I think he's actually some kind of saint. Some of them were positively draconian." Phil ran his fingers through Clint's hair and leaned forward to gently kiss him. "Now I've broken about twelve regulations and stomped all over any semblance of clearance levels, how about we finish this picnic and get going to the aquarium?"

"I've never been to the aquarium," Clint admitted. 

"Really? God, we go all the time - I got a family season ticket." Phil glanced at the baby monitor as it began to snuffle. "You go scoop up Nat from her nap before she gets too loud and I'll load all this into the cooler."

Clint was a pleasure to take places. He walked around the aquarium with eyes wide, Nat on his hip pointing out all her favourite fish. It wasn't a big place but it had a petting tank full of harmless sharks and tiny rays, big neon lit tubes with jelly fish of all shapes and sizes and vast seascapes from all corners of the globe. 

It was Clint's genuine pleasure which Phil loved the most. Everything there was new and enchanting. Clint asked Nat a hundred questions and she answered them all, even if half of the answers were made up. Every so often, Phil would suggest alternative answers, and then they'd all argue about which one was the best answer and Clint would have to go off and actually read the display boards to find out what the truth of the matter was.

It was a delightful day. Phil kept expecting things to be awkward or for disagreements to arise, but Clint seemed perfectly content to take everything at face value and go along with everything they were doing. He spent ages helping Nat choose a stuffed toy from the aquarium shop, never losing patience with her as she changed her mind a dozen times, carrying an armful of toy jellyfish and plushie sharks until she finally decided on a large, rainbow-coloured seahorse. 

"I hope we haven't bored you," Phil said as he was strapping a sleepy Nat back into her car seat. 

"Bored me?" Clint sounded shocked. "God, no, it's been the best day ever."

"Really?" Phil couldn't help his smile. 

"Yes! I've never had a day out like this, not since the nuns organised a trip to the local zoo and we lost two kids and someone let the meerkats out." He suddenly looked worried. "Have I bored you?"

Phil stared at him in disbelief. But then again, maybe Clint thought Phil was worried about him being bored because Phil himself was.

"A day out with my two favourite people? How the hell could I find that boring?"

Clint blushed. Phil really shouldn't have found it as endearing as he did, but the warm pink flush to Clint's skin just made Phil want to step forward and bury his nose in Clint's neck, right where the blush spread up from the collar of his faded Nirvana t-shirt. As he thought it, Phil realised there was no reason not to.

"You're adorable," Phil murmured, stepping forward and pulling Clint close. "I've not been bored for a single second. I want a thousand days like today."

"Three years’ worth of days?" Clint asked. "So, at one day out a week, that's like nearly twenty years."

"Better make it one day every two weeks then."

The fragile hope on Clint's face was devastating. 

"You've known me barely a month," Clint said, voice shaking. 

"Sometimes you just know." He brushed his lips gently over Clint's. "I don't want to rush you into anything, so we'll just take it one day at a time. But I'm really hoping for a lot of days."

Clint's eyes were wide and his expression was so fucking heart-breaking that Phil couldn't do anything else but kiss him again.

"Papa kissing Clint?" a little voice asked from beside them.

Phil choked back a laugh and looked down, to find Nat regarding them with interest. 

"Yes, sweetheart," he said. "I am."

"Give me a kiss," she demanded, and so he stuck his head into the car and pressed his lips to her cheek. "And Clint too."

After a moment's startled pause, Clint leaned into the car too and kissed the same spot Phil had. 

"Thank you," she said. "Now, can we have milkshake please?"

"We can have milkshake." Phil shut the door with a laugh. "How about we go to that new place down by the park with the lake?" he asked Nat as he got in the front.

Clint nodded eagerly.

"Say yes, Nat, because they sell bags of old bread we can take to feed the ducks on the water"

"Ducks!" Nat squealed. "And milkshake and Papa and Clint and the bestest birthday ever!"

"Being three years old is awesome," Clint told her. "I don't remember my third birthday but I bet you'll remember this one, for ever and ever, right Nat?"

"Ever and ever," she agreed, solemnly, before squealing in glee again. "And you're going to stay with us forever and ever and ever, right Clint?"

"Forever is a long time," he said, and Phil could see right through his evasive response.

"I'd like that," Phil told them both. "Clint can stay as long as he wants to."

They both looked at him with wide-eyed expressions of hope and Phil knew he was completely screwed. As long as they never found out, he thought, clinging onto the faint hope that they would never fully understand just how lethal those two sets of big blue eyes really were.

"I - I need to find a job," Clint said, clearing his throat. "I mean, as much as I like being a kept man, and all."

"About that," Phil said with a smile. "How would you feel about working with little kids?"

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I did steal the title from the lyrics of Kid Rock's 'All Summer Long'. /o\


End file.
